The Littlest Wizard

Summary: What would happen if, during an attack from the Dark Lord's unscrupulous henchmen, Harry Potter were mistakenly cursed with babyhood? And what if Severus Snape were forced to care for him?

Chapter 1

Harry
was crying.

Snape
lay motionless, his eye glinting in the darkness, and prayed he would quiet. He
had held the child once. It didn’t settle well to think of doing it again. How
like his father indeed, to care only for his own comfort and feeling. It could
not be dawn, but here the boy was, wide awake and hardly minding if he woke
others. Snape wondered if McGonagall could hear from her bedroom. From the
general stillness of the place, he doubted it. And from the very manner of the
infant’s distress, he was not surprised.

For
Harry was unnaturally quiet. His sobs were no more than wet gasps. What might
have been a splitting wail was instead only a faint, high whimpering. Perhaps,
Snape considered, he did not wish to be
heard.

The
potions master raised himself. Too tired for wand-raising and incantations, he
went to the lamp at McGonagall’s desk, and turned up the light himself. Temper
strained, he went to Harry’s makeshift bed, and looked sourly down.

‘It
is not an hour since Professor McGonagall tucked you in,’ he observed. ‘What can be the matter?’

Snape
paused, troubled, in turning aside. He would have liked to sleep, but Harry’s
behavior surprised him. He had thought children noisy and demanding, utterly
unmanageable, another chore added to an already long list. Harry Potter was the
opposite. He had never seen an infant so entirely desperate, so very
frightened, and alone.

‘Well.
Mister Potter,’ said Snape. ‘You do
not surprise me in the least.’

And,
even as the last ‘s’ lingered on before the ‘t’ in a low, pronounced hiss, he
reached into the child’s box and raised him in his arms.

Little
Harry buried his face in the potions master’s breast.

If
Snape was startled he did not show it. At least, he did not recoil or distance
himself in any way from the infant. But his glance in that shadowed place was
suddenly fierce, and he raised a hand to the child’s bowed head, stroking
tousled black locks. He could feel Harry shuddering against him. His white lip
twisted.

‘Why
are you afraid?’ said Snape. ‘Who would harm you? Who would dare?’

The
last dark phrase suited the potions master. He looked like a parent dragon at
that moment, cradling Harry on his chest but somehow raging even as he
comforted. If anyone had seen him, they might have thought he meant to hurt the
baby himself, not recognizing the potions master’s violent desire to protect.
But someone did see, and someone did recognize; Professor McGonagall had woken at Harry’s faint sobs and she
stood now in the doorway.

Harry’s
small fists tightened in the potion master’s robes. His whimper of distress
was weak and muffled. Snape’s passion upset him, not knowing whether he was the
cause or if the monsters had come for him again.

‘Shh,’
said Snape. ‘You are safe, little one. Shh.’

His
tone had changed. It was low, almost sibilant, and if it was ungentle it was
entirely calm and assured. McGonagall could not help but think how fitting it
was he stood as Head of Slytherin then, younger than any previous head, because
there was a kind of serpentine willfulness in him that was almost hypnotic. She
could easily imagine a basilisk soothing its kin with a similar power. Little
Harry hiccupped. Snape gazed dispassionately on that round, streaked face
raised to his, into the wide, frightened eyes that sought him so desperately.
His fingertips passed over the child’s brow and down his flushed cheeks.

‘Sleep,’
he said. ‘I will watch over you.’

The
boy’s glance wavered. He still sniffled, but there were no fresh tears.

McGonagall
watched Snape carry him to the sofa. She watched the potions master sit, then
lean carefully to one side, his head against the chair arm and Harry cradled on
his chest. Snape looked exhausted, but his every movement was deliberate and
cautious, as if he feared the child would be hurt or frightened at any careless
motion. Realizing he would not be replaced in bed, little Harry babbled with
delight. He squirmed his way up until he nestled against Snape’s neck, and his
little fingers reached to grasp a clump of raven hair.

Snape
winced. He was used to discomfort, McGonagall knew, but this was a different,
more innocent pain, and he did not resist it. She watched her former student
close his eyes, his lean hand resting on Harry’s back.

Quietly,
she stepped into the room.

Snape’s
lids flickered as she neared him, but he only roused when the transfigurations
professor bent and pressed his shoulder.

‘Minerva,’
he said. ‘What—is it?’

‘Will
you let me help you?’ she asked. ‘Now, that you see how important it is?’

‘What
do you mean?’ he asked.

‘He
depends on you,’ said McGonagall. ‘He trusts you. I was not able to quiet him
so swiftly and easily, nor has anyone else been. Don’t you see? Of all of us,
Harry sees you as his protector. He has adopted you, Severus, whether you like
it or not. Though from the looks of things, it seems as though you do.’

The
potion master sighed.

‘I
do not like it,’ he said. ‘I cannot help it.’

McGonagall
sat beside him on the sofa’s edge.

‘You
can’t do this alone,’ she said. ‘There is no guarantee we can bring him back.
What he faces is very powerful and now, in this state, he hasn’t a hope of
defense. I know that you are willing to shelter him, Severus, and even to give
your life for him if you must; I don’t doubt that for an instant. But you have
never raised a child before. You haven’t cared for him twenty-four hours, and
already you look worn to the bone. You take too much upon yourself. You will be
no use to Harry, dead on your feet.’

‘I
do not understand what you are asking,’ said Snape. He did look pale, even more
so than usual. ‘You tell me to protect him, then say that I have no ability to
properly do so. What do you want of me, Minerva? Will you take him?’

‘No,’
she said. ‘I want to impress on you how important it is that you are with him.
Leave your class, for a few days at least, until you have gotten used to him.
You are allowed sick leave. And I will be glad to grade those papers you have
piled on your desk. It is important that he bond with you, Severus—it is
important he trust someone.’

Snape’s
mouth twisted. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘the reason he does not trust you so easily
is that all of you try too hard.’

It was a cold thing to say. McGonagall
did not bat an eye.

‘I
am sure you know more about it than I do,’ she said. ‘Now. Will you let me help?
I’ll begin by doing this.’

And,
before he could protest she gently uncurled Harry’s little fists from the death
grip he had on Snape’s hair.

The
child stirred. With a sleepy smack of lips, his pudgy arm reached and flailed
until his hand came to rest on the potions master’s bare throat. At once he
turned to this new source of warmth, much softer than cotton robe. Snape hissed
quietly as the sleeping infant pressed near, damp, sticky skin and small, kneading
hands. His eyes turned on McGonagall. There was relief in them, now that Harry
was not torturing his scalp, but also something like cold desperation.

‘I
do not know why he should cling to me,’ he said, lowly. ‘I am not ready for
this. I cannot forget who he is, Potter’s
son. Please, Minerva. Take him. You are right, I am not strong enough. If I
should fail him, I could not bear it. I could not—I could not—if my own
spitefulness should betray him—do you not see? Here.’ He began to raise
himself. ‘Take him now, while he is quiet. He will be none the wiser.’

There
was agony in his strained voice. McGonagall pressed him back, firm but gentle,
troubled to see that he had not the strength to truly resist her. For a moment
she was silent, stroking long, black strands of hair from his grey forehead,
quieting him as if he, too, were an overanxious child. He breathed in ragged
gasps, catching like sobs, but he made not a sound and Harry did not wake.

‘Do
not let it grieve you so,’ said McGonagall. ‘What if he is James Potter’s son?
What if he is Lilly Evans’ son? He
has neither of them, and is in your care entirely. Of all of us, we who are
able to look after him, there is great love in you, Severus, for this babe. I
do not know if it is for Lilly’s sake alone. I begin to doubt it. If you
trouble yourself over everything else, at least do not doubt that you prize
Harry as your own, and would not harm a hair on his head even if the Dark Lord
threatened to tear you limb from limb. I saw it all. I saw it in the way you
held him; I see it in the way you comfort him. Do not be afraid to love,
Severus. For his sake, give of yourself, this once if never again.’

‘You
will help me.’ He caught her hand in his own. His lean, long fingers were
shaking. ‘Minerva, help me.’

She
had never seen him so distraught. McGonagall did not know if it would be a bad
or a good thing, for Harry to wake and realize. But all pretense of calm was
gone now, and she saw clearly how very new Snape was to this strange mix of
responsibility and dependency, of duty and thralldom. She had never married,
never had children of her own. And yet she was struck by the feeling that much
as Harry looked to Snape, the potions master looked to her. She had been his
teacher once, and he had learned to respect her then, though she had failed to
protect or help him. This was a second chance to honor that respect, if she
could.

‘I
will help you,’ she murmured. ‘You’re not alone in this, Severus. If you should
feel yourself overburdened, do not hesitate to come to me. I can at least offer
some respite. Will you remember to do that? Severus?’

His
shivering had turned violent. He was on the edge of collapse, his frantic mind
tearing to shreds what little confidence was in his heart. McGonagall wondered
what she had done, when moments before he had seemed so peaceful.

‘Severus?’
she said again, more earnestly. ‘What is the matter?’

He
did not reply.

And
Harry, upset by his helpless agitation, woke.

At
first the infant was silent, his eyes open, his expression drowsy. Then,
discomfort set in. He began, again, to cry.

Snape
froze. His body was coiled and tense.

Harry
reached for him, seeking one to reassure, to deny him nothing.

Snape
trembled.

Harry
could not speak. But his fear was more eloquent than any words.

Snape
lifted himself once more. He caught the little one to him in a fierce embrace.

McGonagall
could not help but watch. It felt odd, to see something so intimate, the mutual
need of parent and child satisfied at last in a strange agony of surrender.
Snape’s white lips found the little one’s head and for the first time he kissed
that messy shock of black hair. He, who had loved but never known love, was at last overcome. And
Harry, who did not understand what had been said or brought to light while he
slept, responded to his surrogate father’s attention with a fearful surprise
soon replaced by joy.

Write a Review
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
Weaver_Bly

kikam13:
Do you ever watch a movie whatever movie that maybe and you literally yell at the person on the screen yelling at them to not do the thing they are going to do anyway I’m literally doing that with this story. I honestly love this book so much I can’t stop reading and I’m just waiting and excited...

Zy Mingo:
I really like it so far but, as much as I love the Vogel brothers; it needs more than this fluffy romance. Also, I'm no one to judge on grammar so even though it not good. It also doesn't take away from the story to me.

DarkBeauty357:
Loved it!!! I'm reading the story of the four werewolf men and their shared mate next! I really do hope their is a sequel to this, like maybe about the twins or something. I would really like to see what happened with Chris, Sean and Brittany. I got to say I came to like Brittany in the end.

Ashlea Jeng:
Love this book, each chapter just got better and better, you when on an emotional journey with the characters and experienced each emotion, the story has a great flow to it and keeps you wanting more! would definitely read again x

Angela Rose:
I really managed to connect with your characters in the 6 chapters that were written. I'm left now wanting more so I hope there's to be an update soon! Most of the time I had no idea what was about to happen and I love that in a book. The suspense and wondering makes a story so much better, there...

Rosalyn Morello:
Please update. I really love your story. You should keep writing. Your story is wonderful. So please continue this lovely story. Some people are getting mad and using profane language in the comments sections because you haven't updated for a while.

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